FAMILY GUY: Last of the Megans
by Tharpdevenport
Summary: The Griffins unwillingly participate in a cultural exchange program. Brian sobers up not by choice. Stewie inacts his ... plan...
1. Default Chapter

The Family Guy: "The Last Of The Megans"  
  
By: Justin Boggan  
  
The door to Megan's Math Class room opens and in steps a man.  
  
"Good morning children, I'm Mister Edwards. Your substitute for today. Your regular teacher, Mister Jenning, is out with alcohol poisoning after a long and heavy night of drinking and whore mongering. So I thought we'd begin today's class off with a pop quiz..."  
  
All the class moans, "Awwww..."  
  
"...of next week's subject material."  
  
Megan raises her hand, "Ah, Mister Edwards, we haven't studied next weeks subject material. We barely even learned last weeks'."  
  
"You haven't? Oh very well, then you can all do busy work. Here's my monthly bills and mortgage payment. First person to calculate the total correctly gets an A."  
  
"Mister Edwards, I don't think we can do this," says Megan.  
  
"You're right. I should really be after those pre-algebra brats. Oh yeah, starting tomorrow we will participate in a cultural exchange program. Last night while your teacher was drunk, he put as many names of yours that he could remember into a hat he stole and Meg - you're the lose ... ah, winner," he eyes get shifty.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Congratulations," he picks up some chalk and starts drawing on the chalk board, "now class, in order to keep a drunk from choking on their own vomit, you gotta roll them over on their stomachs'."  
  
Meg walks in threw the front door.  
  
"Mom, dad, you'll never believe what happened at school today."  
  
"Shhh ... not now honey, daddy's watching Team Knight Rider."  
  
"Grrr, I'm a sexy truck. Whose up for some stupid, pointless wisecracks?"  
  
All the TKR vehicles honk and fire lasers.  
  
"Lois honey, if I try to watch that again, I want you to shoot me. I mean really - shoot. Point blank in the skull and keep firing until you hear the gun clicking."  
  
"Megan sweetheart, what is it?" asks Lois.  
  
"Our teacher said we're going to have a cultural exchange program tomorrow and that I've been picked!"  
  
"Oh, don't worry sweetie. A cultural exchange is when a student from another country comes over here to learn. All you have to do is look smart and be friendly. And if their British, don't stare directly at their teeth."  
  
"Okay, but he has to stay here," says Meg.  
  
"Here? The home is filthy, Peter we got to start cleaning. What if he's Canadian?"  
  
"Canadians like to clean crap up so they can be as close to their natural habitat as possible," replies Peter.  
  
Lois gets up and heads for the kitchen.  
  
"Dad, what's alcohol poisoning?"  
  
"I don't know, go ask Brian honey."  
  
Meg runs upstairs and to her room. She picks up the phone and dials a friend.  
  
"Karen, Meg. Wait till you hear what happened in fifth period..."  
  
Stewie passes by her slightly opened door with his teddy bear in hand.  
  
"What's that she says? A cultural exchange? Rupert," he holds the bear up and looks it dead in the eyes, "I believe this is just the diversion I need to implement my ... [i]plan[/i]," he scurries off.  
  
Brian walks into the living room. He sits next to Peter.  
  
"Hey Brian. I don't see a drink, going sober today?"  
  
"Lois took my drink; she wants me teetotalic."  
  
"Is that even a word?"  
  
"Sort of ... look, I got to have my daily intake, or I just sort of - go unhinged."  
  
"Oh, like a gate door?" asks Peter.  
  
"No, more like I'll wake up and kill you all while you sleep in a violent alcohol deprived rage."  
  
"Brian, don't take this personally, but, ah, I think I'm gonna lock the door tonight."  
  
"Sleep on the couch tonight?"  
  
"If that's all right with you. The couch is pretty comfy .. I mean ... we can get pillows and covers and ... please don't kill me."  
  
"Unfortunately I can't, Lois is hiding all the silverware. Hey Peter, on a totally unrelated note - have you seen those plastic Taco Bell knives?"  
  
"I'm going to coyly ignore that. Have you ever thought about AAA?" asked Peter.  
  
"You mean AA."  
  
"What's the difference?"  
  
"I don't think Triple A will exactly be brimming with pride when I step into their office and announce I'm an alcoholic. And sooner or later they're gonna realize I drove myself there."  
  
"Ah, you'll get over it. Either that, or you'll have a psychotic episode. I'm going to the kitchen. You need anything?" asks Peter.  
  
I was going to say a drink, but thanks anyway."  
  
Peter walks off. Brian turns to watch the television.  
  
Announcer: "We now return to, CHEERS."  
  
"Say Norm, what'll it be"  
  
"Oh, how about a beer?"  
  
Click.  
  
"Don't think about it Brian. Just take your mind off the booze. Just concentrate on something else - anything else," he turns the channel.  
  
"Hi, I'm O.J. Simpson for Ginsue Knives. Ginsue, the first name in killing things," he uses the knife in a stabbing motion, "sorry, I'm used to bananas."  
  
"Huh!" drops the remote. 


	2. Chapter 2 FG C

Chapter 2: ""  
  
Knock, knock, knock.  
  
Peter picks up a metal garbage hawk and attempts to seize the door knob handle and twist.  
  
"Eh ... eh ... oh ... Brian, can you get that? I'm too comfortable to get up."  
  
"Ow, sorry Peter. I'd like to do simple tasks like open doors, but right now I'm going through withdraw. Now if you excuse me a minute, I have to go shake uncontrollably in a corner for a few minutes."  
  
"Oh, oh great," he calls to Brian as Brian walks off, "fine. Is it too much to ask that somebody lift a finger around here? Geez," he opens the door.  
  
Standing in front of him is a 17 year old Indian boy in full dress and a black pony tail.  
  
"Yes, is this the residence of the family Griffins?"  
  
"Yes," he pushes the door and it shuts as he turns around to head back to the couch. He hears the door knocked on again.  
  
"Look, I don't want to find "god", buy those awful cookies, or get another one of those encyclopedia things. Their ideas encourage the kids."  
  
"Wait, sir, you do not understand," says the boy.  
  
"Really? God, you're like the 10th person to tell me that today."  
  
Lois walks to the door quickly.  
  
"Come on in, please! Peter, this is the cultural exchange student Meg mentioned yesterday. Hi, I'm Lois, Meg's mother and this is Peter, my husband."  
  
Peter extends his hand, "Hey, I'm Peter Griffin. You'll have to excuse me back there. I saw your cloths and immediately assumed you crazy. Either that, or Halloween came awful early."  
  
The Indian boy puts his hand's palm facing their face, up in greetings.  
  
"I am [i]Big Thinker[/i] of the Mezzojaha tribe. I am honored by your hospitality."  
  
"Oh, that is so cool - honey check this out - this kid has his own tribe!"  
  
"Actually, I am but a member of my people."  
  
"There, there. Study hard enough and one day you'll climb to the white man top," says Peter.  
  
"Ah ... yes..."  
  
Megan walks downstairs.  
  
"Megan sweetie, the cultural exchange student is here. Meet [i]Big Thinker[/i]. [i]Big Thinker[/i], this is our daughter Megan."  
  
"How," replies Big Thinker.  
  
"Oh, easy - I screwed her mom and 9 months later, BAM!" replies Peter.  
  
"Dad!" Meg's pupils dilate.  
  
"Oh, and we also have a son named Chris. But he's not here right now. And a dog named Brian and let's see ... who am I forgetting? Oh yeah, little Stewie. He's only two years old."  
  
Stewie comes trotting down the steps and stops midway to glare at them all.  
  
"Did someone call my name? I say, speak up now, I don't have all day," they all look at him. "What the devil are you looking at? Don't screw with me you lower class horde of monkies, I distinctly heard my name uttered. Well? I know I heard you! Don't think you are fooling me ... fess up! Fine them - don't admit it! Agh! Damn you all!" he scatters upstairs.  
  
He runs into his room and slams the door.  
  
"Their days of mocking and dickerey will soon be over. Once I have completed the meteorological transmogrifier, the very heavens themselves shall split asunder and rain volts of mighty Zeus' thunder rods upon that vile woman! They will all rue the day! You all hear me down there?" he stomps on the floor, "R U E T H E D A Y! I say, cower at my evil prowess! I don't hear you all cowering!" he continues to stomp away like a madman, "cringe in horror! Why aren't you all cringing?" his foot breaks through the floor, leaving him stuck. "Damn! well, this ... well," he wriggles around and is unable to free himself, "maybe if I ... blast! What does she call it again? Ah, yes .. ma .. I say, mommy. Mommy help me. Help me damn you!" 


	3. Chapter 3: How, Why & Introductions

**Chapter 3: "How, Why & Introductions"**

"Peter honey, Stewie's calling me. Can you entertain out guest for a moment?"

"Sure honey."

Lois goes upstairs. Peter turns to Big Thinker.

"Gee, I've never entertained a real live Indian before. Come to think of it, I thought Indians were something made up by Gunsmoke."

"Dad! Could you show some compassion?" says Meg angrily.

"What's that? A new program on CBS? Sweetie, we can't watch TV right now, we have to entertain out guest.

So, what do your people do for fun anyway?"

"The Mezzojaha sing and dance in a festic display of happiness and comradery."

Brian, who had just walked in, eyes widen and he runs to Peter, "Peter, no!"

"Oh, you mean like this?" he puts the couch top cloth rest, that has tassels on it's border, on his head and starts doing a stereotypical dance with words, "Hey ya, yah yah yah. HO, yah yah yah. _Wawawawawawawa_. Eh, I can't do that thing. You know? The Xena thing? When she makes that sound with her mouth. How's _that_ for entertainment?"

Brian slaps his forehead and shakes it disbelief. Meg stands there with her jaw agape.

"You have _greatly_ offended my people and their customs," replies Big Thinker.

"You hear that Brian? He said I did a _GREAT job!"_

Big Thinker continues, "And tribal people the world over, as a whole."

"Brian! I'm an _international_ superstar!"

"Dad! H … how-"

Peter puts his hand up, imitating Big Thinker, "Well, '_How_' to you to honey."

Everyone stands in stunned silence.

Lois comes down, with Stewie in her arms.

"Yes, well, if you think this _deed_ will spare you … you are _sorely_ mistaken women!"

Megan runs up to her and tugs at her shoulder, "Mom, can you make dad stop, like, _saying_ things!"

"Oh," she laughs uneasily, "honey, mommies been trying that for 20 years…" she then trails off.

"Peter, I need to go for a walk," says Brian.

"Well, have at it," he replies.

"Can you take me for a walk, _please_?" he stresses the last word.

"Geez, you want me to watch you poop too? You're a grown dog, just go outside and let nature take it's course."

"Peter, I _need_ to _talk_ to you. OUTSIDE."

"Hey, why didn't you just say so? Gosh Brian, sometimes you can be so vague," he walks past Brian to the back door in the kitchen.

"Wow, just wow. It's not lost upon you – it's never found you. Fuck I could use a drink," goes out with Peter.

"So, Big Thinker, welcome to America. No, I mean, Indians _are_ from America. Welcome to my home," says Lois carefully.

"Actually Miss Griffin, there are tribes in nearly every country on mother Earth."

"Well, welcome to out corner. So, who went to your tribe?"

Neil walks around shirtless, with a neck strap camera. He snaps pictures of various tribe people. They cry out in fear and hide.

"Walks Like Duck, I must ask you to stop. Our people believe that your white-man's device takes their souls."

"Really?" Neil snaps another photo. The person screams and runs off.

"Yes, really. Only National Geographic can have our souls. So, if you would…"

"Hey chief, where's those half naked Indian girls I see on The Discovery Channel?"

"Cooking and preparing tonight's food."

"Oh, cool. The Dark Ages," snaps another photo.

"I must insist that you-"

"Would you like a picture of some boobies?"

"You can do that?" a tribesman walks by. Chief eyes him and speaks to Neil as the guy walks by, "My people believe in love and trust; it's a sacred bond. We hold out women in," then man is gone, " how much?"

"Three beaded necklaces."

"Deal," says the Chief.

"I am unsure," replies Big Thinker.

"Meg, why don't you show Big Thinker around while I prepare his bed in the basement."

"Sure. Lets get the hell out of here."

"May you work well Miss Griffin," says Big Thinker.

They leave Lois.

Peter walks over to the hammock and lies in it.

"Peter, we came out to talk, remember?"

"Oh right."

"Peter, you can't just go around insulting other races like that."

"I didn't insult him. You heard him, he called me '_Great_'."

"Remember what Dan Rather said to you?"

"Yeah, he called me great too!"

"No Peter, he said: _'You're the greatest fool ever.'_."

"See! Not just okay, all right or even excellent – great!"

"No, before that."

"The greatest?"

"The whole thing before it."

"You're the greatest?" says Peter innocently.

"Now the end."

"Fool ever?"

"Now put it together."

"You're the greatest fool ever. He he he ….. oh. That bastard," he squints his eyes menacingly.

"And know think about the context in which Big Thinker used it."

"Oh. OH! Hey! That little sarcastic redneck."

"Wow."

"What?" asks Peter.

"You actually knew what "context" means. I was fairly certain," laughs, "anyhow, as I was saying, you offended him."

"How? I danced and tried to make that sound."

"Number one: You're thinking about The Wind And the Lion – Indians don't do that. Number two: You did that while doing a cheesy copy of their traditional Rain Dance.

That's not something they do for fun; they do that when there is a draught and their plants are dying and they are going thirsty."

"Oh, come on! I see the Cleveland Indians do it all the time. They even have chief Wahoo! Why don't you go bug them?"

"Peter, that's why the native Americans protested at the Cleveland Indians games.

They were angered over the Cleveland Indians using it as a stereotype."

"Well, if they needed a better stereo, then they should have sold more land to the white man."

"Gosh Peter, I … I don't know what do say."

"Shhh - speak not; silence says a thousand words ….. hey, wasn't it Sean Connery in the Wind And the-"

"You're a bigot."

"A bigfoot?"

"Bigot. Peter, America used to belong to the Indians. Then one day Christopher Columbus found America and discovered the Indians.

He killed their ppeople, raped their land and women and made them slaves.

To top it all off, he brought disease to them. They had never had the cold before."

"Oh."

"And slowly we took over their land. Either by force or trading them beads since they had no concept of ownership.

Now races that numbered in the high thousands, are either extinct or in the low hundreds.

So, you got to understand Peter – you offended Big Thinker. Would you want someone to make fun of the small size of your penis?"

"oh my goodness Brian – I AM a bigfoot!"

"Yes. Yes you are…"

"For now on I'm going to treat Big Tinkler with the respect his endangered people deserve."

"Good for you Peter."

"Right after I nap in the hammock," he lays back and starts humming Jerry Goldsmith's theme for The Wind And the Lion.

Brian walks off.

Joe pops his head over the fence a minute later.

"Say Peter – did you know there's an Indian in your house?"

Meg takes Big Thinker upstairs.

"Well, this is my house. Nothing much to see. It's pretty boring."

"I live in a tent on my reservation."

"I slept in a tent once. It was a sleepover with my friend Karen. It was inside the house though … and … Hey! This is my brother Chris's room."

"How, Chris Griffin," Big Thinker greets him.

"I don't know. What was the question again?" Chris fumbles.

"I am Big Thinker of the Mezzojaha tribe."

"He's here as part of my classes Cultural Exchange Program. Try not to insult him lardo," comments Meg.

"Why do you wear that over you eyes?" asks Big Thinker.

"It's a sleeping mask. I've been having trouble sleeping lately. There's an evil monkey in my closet keeping me up all night long."

"God, not the evil monkey. I'm gonna go pee," says Megan. She walks off.

"Allow me," Big Thinker walks to the closet and opens it. The evil monkey comes out, sharp teeth showing and points – it stops for a second, then continues as if out of habit.

"My monkey brother, you are a good primate. Why hold such animosity toward this man? Come – let us be friends."

The evil monkey sheds a tear and they both hug. He then walks over and hugs Chris's left leg.

"AH!"

"Do not be afraid Chris Griffin. You are enemies no more."

The monkey puts it's arms out in joy and goes back into the closet. Meg comes back.

"I'm sorry," she says to Big Thinker.

"For?"

"For whatever my brother said while I was gone."

"Your brother did not offend me."

"You're cool. I don't care what television says about you," says Chris.

"You _like_ him? Look, I know there aren't many people in your tribe, but…"

"Here Chris Griffin," he takes something off from around his neck and hands it to Chris.

"What is it? An earring?"

"This is a Dream Catcher. It helps one to slumber more peaceably. And have good thoughts."

"That must be why they made that movie! Thanks Big Thinker."

"You are welcome Chris Griffin. Now, if you would excuse us, Megan was going to show me around your homestead."

Big Thinker leaves the room. Meg glares at Chris.

"You're still totally un-cool rhino butt," and she closes the door.

Chris sits down on his bed. The closet door opens and the evil monkey comes out. It points and smiles, then calmly shuts the door.

"Weird."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Untitled

A few brief bars of the Family Guy theme sound as we see the house. It is starting to get dark.

Stewie tinkers with some various Frankensteined items.

"You see Rupert, this ordinary pair of useless television rabbit ears, when modified, can act as a telecommunication transmitter.

With the use of the 1200 volts – what's that you say? Not enough power to affect the weather? Well, my cotton stuffed chap, it's enough to send it broadcasting to satellite dishes in the surrounding neighborhood.

And that signal it shall send will a set of instructions to send a feedback command through the orbiting satellite's transmitting beam, telling it to reposition and alter it's frequency and power outage.

When redirected – are you paying attention Rupert? I saw you nodding off! Just because _you_ don't have eyelids, doesn't mean _I_ don't see; you fool no one.

As I was saying, when redirected, it will pass through the clouds. One beam to cool it and another to heat it and cause moisture. _Thus causing rain!_ And when that walking womb takes me wit her shopping, I shall tug on the steering wheel causing the car to hydroplane and crash, thus ending the wretched witches life."

He looks at Rupert.

"How shall I survive you ask? It's rather simple really. You se, I have adjusted my baby seat to act as an ejector seat and Elmo here will soften my impact," he squeezes the doll. It sounds: _"Ha! Ha! Ha! He, he. It tickles!"_

"Yes, I know I already tried this once. If the broccoli dies as a result this time, it will be an added bonus.

How dare you question me! It could just as easily be you than Elmo.

While they are all caught up attending to our native-American guest, I shall be busy implementing my plan."

"Stewie, diner time honey!" Lois calls from downstairs.

"Hummm, really? I thought it was time for you to _shut the hell up!_"

Lois sets the kitchen table. Big Thinker enters the kitchen and seats himself.

"Oh, hey Big Thinker. You're a little early; I'm still setting the table."

"Miss Griffin, would you like any assistance?"

"Any what? Oh, thank you. You could help put the utensils out. Forks and napkins on the left, knives spoon and scalping hatchets go on the right."

He does not laugh.

"So, how do you like my home?" she tries to change the conversation.

"It is most impressive. I hope to one day have a house like this. Maybe even your-"

"Stewie! Don't make me come up there!" she calls out.

"Don't make me come down there!"

Brian presses the doorbell at Quagmire's house. A xylophone rendition of the song "I'm Too Sexy" plays.

Quagmire gets up from eating some fast food and goes to the door.

The door swings open. Quagmire stands there in a silky red casual robe. He looks out.

"Yeah?"

"Down here."

"Heh, heh, sorry. Hey there … ah … ah…"

"Brian."

"Hey there Brian. How's Peter?"

"He's fine. He's entertaining an Indian exchange student."

"Indian? He didn't happen to bring a sister. _Poc_ahontas, all right," he thrusts his pelvis.

"No."

"Oh well," starts to close the door.

Brian puts his foot in the door.

"Heh, hey Brian, I can't close the door with your foot there."

"Where is it?"

"Where's what?" asks Glenn.

"The alcohol!" he pushes his way in.

"I don't have any."

"Don't lie to me, I'm an alcoholically depraved dog with nothing to lose. Remember … I can smell fear…"

"I had to get rid of it, they caught me drunk while flying a 747. Damn things crash all the time with sober people anyway…"

"If you're lying, so help me, I'll tell Lois about the shrine."

"Why, I don't know what you're talking about….." he shifts his eyes left the right.

"Oh, you know. I have a something similar myself. Now get me the booze!"

"I swear, I don't got anymore."

"Did you ever see the 1st Beethoven movie?"

"Yeah…" he replies uneasily.

"Remember that part in the end where the small dog runs up to the villain and bites his crotch? I auditioned for that part … _and nearly got it_," he growls.

"All right, all right! I got some emergency chick relaxer in the bar," he flips a switch and a half-circle bar spins out of the wall. He reaches under and pulls a bottle out and hands it to Brian, "ah, there _may_ or _may not_ be something in there, so if you hallucinate and pass out….."

"Is this all you got?"

"There won't be anymore until Tuesday," he watches Brian walk to the front door and says, "hey! How am I going to get chicks to like me!"

Brian opens the door and turns around briefly to say, "Try using wit and charm," and closes it.

"Well, what about the _REST_ of the night!"

He goes back to his fast food. "Darnit, where's the knife?"

Chris stands in Meg's room with his arms out as he talks.

"And the monkey, which used to be the evil money, came over and hugged my leg, smiled and went back into the closet."

"God, not the stupid evil monkey again. How'd you get into my room anyway? I thought I locked it."

"I picked it. Now I don't know what to do!"

"Listen – there's no freakin' monkey in your closet. There are moths in your head though."

"There are!" he tilts his head and starts hitting his top ear, "_stop laying eggs in my brain!_"

"You tell them. Now go away."

"But what about the monkey?"

"Chris, if we go over to your closet right now and don't find a monkey, will you finally stop believing in it?"

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"He's not here, Wednesday's his day at the gym."

Meg rolls her eyes, "Ow, oh convenient."

"What do I do when he comes back?"

She pushes him out of her room; his feet scraping off the carpet, "I don't know, make peace with it," and slams it shut.

Chris walks by Stewie's room.

"Hey Stewie-"

"DON'T LOOK AT ME!" he points and commands.

Stewie runs out and to the stairs. He stops, gives a menacing look and goes down.

Stewie stops at his diner booster seat. He eyes Lois evilly and commands concisely, "**_Up_**," and lifts his arms in anticipation.

"There you are sweetie," she seats him.

"How about a little less non-chalant banter and more food you bit-" he sniffs the air, "is that left over mash potatoes? Oh, your death shall be a joyous one a woman."

"Kids," she yells as she sets down a pot of food in the middle of the table, "diners ready!"

"Greetings Stewie Griffin, I am Big Thinker of the Mezzojaha tribe."

"Hum, yes, you must be that Indian chap from the cultural exchange program. Circle the wagons and all. I say, do us a favor and _scalp_ the woman."

"Here," Brian hands Lois a plate.

"Thank you Brian for cutting the cheese for me."

"It was no problem … relived a little tension even."

Chris walks into the kitchen.

"Oh, cheese!"

"No, not yet. We're still waiting for your father to join us."

Chris turns to Brian and says weirdly, "I wear the cheese; it does not wear me."

"Yes, well, how prophetic. Gosh, I'd like to not be sober right now."

"Perhaps you'd like me to take you to some cigar-fume infested dump, full of rednecks named "Jeb" and "Steve", drinking warm Budweiser. Hummm, yes, that's what you'd like – "Jeb"," Stewie annunciates, "and "Steve", hum?"

"You tell me – I don't go to gay bars."

"Oh, oh – isn't that very clever. It was especially hilarious the first hundred times! Here, you deserve a treat … laced with strychnine!"

Meg comes in.

"Hey sweetie, you're just in time – when your father gets down, we're going to say grace," she scoops out mash potatoes into the family's plates.

"Mom, don't call me sweetie!" she sits next to Big Thinker, "what she really meant was 'sex vixen'."

"Do not be ashamed of your family's love," he replies.

"I say, Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, - that saved a wretch like me … what, don't you like it?" he says to Brian.

Brian eyes him suspiciously.

"How about: Show me the way to go home. Bom bom bom – I'm tired and I wanna go to bed. I had a little DRINK – _drink_ I say – about an hour ago and it's gone straight to me head."

"You'll pay."

"You'll go through withdraw!"

"Where is dad anyway?" asks Meg.

Lois finishes dishing out the food, "I don't know, I thought-"

Suddenly, Peter walks in. He is adorned in brown, tasseled pants; moccasins; a hat with a bunch of feathers glued to it. He is also shirtless – with the exception of a black vest and beaded necklace.

Everyone stares in disbelief, except: Brian, who does not look shocked; Stewie, who is forming the mountain from Close Encounters of the Third Kind in his mash potatoes; and Big Thinker, who is frowning.

"Greetings my people; I am Chief Stay-puffed Marshmellowman-"

"Peter, no," Brian tries to stop him.

He continues as if he didn't hear Brian, "It's been a long day and many moons of planting corn, but now is the time to feast."

"No," Brian keeps on.

"Well," says Lois uneasily, "we were waiting for you to say grace. Peter, what is that all over your face?"

"This is my war face. We didn't have any paint, so I used lipstick and whiteout. Say grace, huh?"

"No," Brian says again.

"Our blasphemous people do not believe in your "god". We worship Mother Earth and other primitive notions!"

"No. Bad owner!" commands Brian.

"But we will observe your white man's customs this once. Everyone, close your eyes…

Dear "god", I'm sorry we slaughtered their people and rapped their women."

"You'll have to excuse Peter, he doesn't mean to offend you. Actually, he says offensive stiff all the time. But I'm pretty sure he doesn't mean it."

Big Thinker pushes his chair back, stands up, sheds a tear and leaves the kitchen, out the back door.

"Peter, I – I don't even know how you even thought this was right. You've made an ass of yourself AND made out guest cry by insulting his heritage and past. Sometimes I wonder if you even have any feelings," Lois takes her lap napkin off and leaves the kitchen.

"Brian – what did I do?"

"Peter, I know you meant well. It's just you employment of it that failed."

"I mean, I tried. I dressed up, read up and even went to that Indian store to get a pair of moccasins. And they were like 30 dollars!

At least I didn't sing that Yankee Doodle Dandy song. Or mention that Indian In The Cupboard movie."

Cut to a kitchen scene: an Indian opens up a cupboard. There is another Indian squeezed in and bended on it's knees. -

"So right?"

"So right."

"Peter, maybe you should go outside and try talking seriously with him.And if you are thinking about saying something you think is offensive, think about it twice. IF that doesn't work, comment on the weather."

"Hey, thanks Brian! Here," he opens the fridge, "have a nice, refreshing, non-alcoholic Zema."

Brian takes it, rips the cap off with his teeth and chugs it. He takes off.

"I hate this family," Meg leaves the kitchen

"This is weird," says Chris.

"Yes," replies Brian, who just walked back in to thank Peter – something he forgot in a moment passion.

"I didn't know dad had boobies."

Brian takes back a swill, "Big ones. And they're hereditary," he walks off after not seeing Peter.

Chris comments to Stewie, "Does this mean I'll need to wear a manssiere? I don't even know how much they cost!"

"Yes, you're a regular Demi Moore. Now get out of my sight you big-chested troglodyte!"

Chris feels his chest and walks off.

Stewie finishes scoulpting the mash potatoes and examines his masterpiece, "Yes … all I need now is that guy from Jaws and John Williams and I'll be a regular Steven Spielberg.

Make Harrison Ford my bitch."

Peter walks out into the backyard, where in the middle, Big Thinker is sitting Indian style.

He stands next to Big thinker and gets down on his haunches. He then places his left hand out and onto the ground. He lowers down and sits. Then he tried to sit Indian style.

"Is it alright if I sit here?" he asks.

"It is your people's country; sit where ever you want," Big Thinker replies.

"Look, I came out here to apologize. I realize now that what I did was offensive to you and your people. I had good intensions, it just didn't come out right – like when I say 'I slit the sheet, the sheet I slit, and on the slitted sheet I sit" five times fast.' "

"Mister Griffin, I am not sure I am ready to accept your apology; fore I am not sure that you either did it to get along with me and your family, or that you truly meant it."

"Look, I'm sorry … it's flooding in Miami and snowing in Kansas."

"Excuse me?"

"Mother Earth is a cold mistress! Anyway, how could I prove to you I'm really sorry?"

"The basement…"

"Oh yeah, Lois set you up a really nice dig down there. You could bring all your Pocahontases down there for a little fire stick – if you know what I mean…"

"You could give me the basement."

"You're already in it."

"No, I mean that you would hand over ownership of it, to me."

"Oh ... okay, I guess I could do that, but Lois has to do laundry down there-"

"Deal," he takes a beaded necklace from his neck and hands it to Peter, "this is for you."

"Oh, gee – thanks Big Tinkler," he smiles.

"Thinker."

"Yeah, I do some of that sometimes too. Peaceful dreams chief," he goes back in the house.

Big Thinker sits … and smiles…


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**: "This Is _MY_ Land"

(((((Since doesn't keep the "enter" presses I use, here is the KEY to help you weave through the muddled mess:

Start of flashback or dream sequence

----- Next scene doing a part of the story.

Same chapter, not part of the block you were reading.)))))

Lois walks through the Living Room picking up dirty laundry and putting it up and placing it in the hamper she is holder with her free hand. She says nothing as she tugs tightly at a shirt sticking out from under Peter, on the couch. It won't come loose. She tries to lit his ass to get it.

"Geez Lois, why don't you just skip the foreplay all together."

"Peter-"

"We'll have sex later – right now I'm watching Miami Vice."

**_Cut to_** Crocket and Castillo, in Castillo's office. The door is open. Castillo looks down while saying, "Sunny, why don't you take Tubbs and-"

Crocket slaps Castillo's face and yells, "_Say my name_, BITCH!"

"Peter, I'm not talking to you after the way you treated Big Thinker yesterday. Let alone have sex with you."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he puts his hands, palms out, "let's not completely rule out sex."

"Is that all you can think about? '_Getting's some_'? You should be thinking up an apology!"

"I did apologize! I tried to tell you last night, but someone locked the bedroom door."

"I did. Peter, are you telling the truth?"

**_Cut to past sequence_** of Peter and Lois sitting on the Living Room couch.

"Peter, did you try to rob a vending machine?"

"No…"

"Are you lying to me?"

"Of course not; what would make you say such a thing?"

Pull out: his hand is stuck up a vending machine door.

"Oh, that? It followed me home."

"Of course I am. You can ask him yourself."

"That's good. Now all you have to do is apologize to the _REST_ of the family for your behavior."

"Man, I got to apologize to everybody? Geez, what do I look like? CBS? You want me to invite Joe, Glenn and Cleveland over and apologize to them as well?"

"Fine – watch re-runs while your family hates you."

"Hey, I have to live with my family forever – this re-runs only on till 11:00!"

Lois throws a pair of underwear at his head.

Lois walks down the long flight of stairs, into the basement. Big Thinker is sitting on a spare mattress.

"Excuse me, I just need to put some cloths in the washer."

"There is no problem," he replies.

Lois sets the basket on the dryer and speaks after raising the washer lid to load it, "So, did you sleep well last night?"

"Very well. Thank you Miss Griffin."

"Look," she stops loading the washer, "my husband said he apologized to you last night. So, I guess what I'm asking is – did-"

"Yes, Mister Griffin come to me and made his apologies."

"He did?"

"We are at one now."

"So, his apology didn't _also_ offend you? I'm just assuming…"

"No. He was most sincere. He made it clear without offending me."

"_He did!_" she says somewhat shocked.

"We have reached an understanding and shall no longer quarrel."

"That's great! Hopefully now you'll be able to become part of the family during your stay," she looks over at a pile of stuff, "you and Chris can even go camping in the back yard. I kept the tent Chris and Peter used a few years ago."

**_Cut to forrest scene_**:

"You see Chris? You just use two regular sticks, rub them together, and there you have it – a fire. Now let's go back into the tent," opens the tent. A raccoon shoots out, grabs onto Peter's face and makes noises. Peter twirls and flails about, "_Oh! Oh! Oh, god!_"

"I'll ask Chris later if he's interested. I'm sure he'll be. I'll bet you two have a lot in common," she closes the washer and turns it on. As she starts up the steps, she sees a sign on the wall and reads it aloud, "Now leaving Mezzojaha Reservation Annex. Heh, how cute. See you later Big Thinker."

"As you Miss Griffin," he smirks.

Chris comes down stairs and stands next to his dad – still watching TV.

"Dad, I need … dad? _Dad_?"

"What? Did somebody mention "Daddio"? Cause for a second there, I was scared."

"Can you help me?"

"Sure Chris. Now what's bugging you?"

"Remember that evil monkey, that lives in my closet? Well-"

"Evil monkies? Say no more son; I remember when I had an encounter with a _whole planet_ of those bastards…"

CUT TO SIGN: Planet Hollywood of the Apes

"Hi," says the waiter, "I'm Doctor Zaius; welcome to Planet Hollywood of the Apes. Are you ready to order?"

Peter responds while reading the menu, "Ah, yeah. I'll have a Might Joe Young & Tender steak, six Orange-atanges, three Curious George Surprise Meals. Oh, and one King Kong Rib for my wife."

Scribbles on his note pad, "All right, I'll be right back with your drinks. While I'm gone, enjoy these complementary brownies," leaves.

-----

The waiter walks over to a second waiter and says, "Hey, Steve, bring that family over there six Orange-atanges; I got to do libratory."

"I'm still on break."

"Get them or you're fired," he walks off after saying.

The second waiter growls in anger.

-----

Peter scarves down the brownies.

"Peter, remember to stop and breath for goodness sakes," says Lois.

"Oh! Oh, Lois – I can't stop eating them; they're like little chocolate angels sent down from a Nestle Quick heaven!"

Stewie speaks from his booster seat, "Yes, eat up you foul little provider. I say – who's mommy's little piggy?" lifts the top of his nose and makes oinking sounds.

Peter starts shoving brownies into his pockets and the back of his pants.

"Peter, for crying out loud – someone might see you! I'm sure they'll let us have them for free," says Lois.

"Oh, do _you_ want to ask them and tip my hand? They may not say yes Lois. Hand…" he looks deep in thought, and then starts licking the chocolate off his hands.

"Peter, waiter," warns Brian.

The waiter walks up holding a tray up with the palm of his left hand. He lets it down a little and starts removing the drinks.

One by one each one of them is disgusted as the waiter sets the glasses down – pulling his thumb out of each one.

"Hey! Get your goshdarn stinking thumb out of my Orange-atange, you damn, dirty ape."

The second waiter, looking through his ape mask, "Make me."

"Oh, that it!" he jets up and gives chase to the monkey-waiter. Jerry Goldsmith-like Planet of the Apes _Chase Music_ plays and they run through the restaurant.

They cut through mazes of tables; zigzagging through patrons. A third waiter tags along with Peter, side by side.

The third waiter speaks feverously, "Has anyone taken your order yet!"

"Get the hell away from me, you freakin' weirdo!" he pushes the third waiter and he falls butt down. Everyone stares at him.

"It's my first day," he looks around and sniffs the air, "hey – there's no smoking allowed in – MY ASS!" he gets up, arms flailing about, ass on fire and runs around aimlessly.

-----

Peter and the second waiter dodge customers left and right and suddenly the theme from the "Gladiators" TV series kicks in and them big punching bag-like objects swing in and out, and they both have to avoid them.

The waiter bursts into the kitchen area, Peter, only a few seconds behind, enters as well. He looks around.

"Hey, do any of you even speak any English?"

The camera pans around to a bunch of Mexicans – who stare blankly at Peter. Peter slowly moves through the kitchen, searching for the waiter. He opens some top wall cabinets. Nothing. He swings open some bottom counter ones. Nothing. He grabs hold of a Mexican and forces his mouth open.

"Ay chiwawa!"

"Ah-ha!" he looks down the guy's throat. Nothing.

He moves back toward the kitchen entrance, opening some cabinets here and there. He opens a big pot on a burner.

Come out you bastard," he peers in. A raccoon shoots out, sinks it's claws into Peter's face and make noises.

"Oh! Oh! Oh, god!" he pulls the raccoon off and throws it back into the pot and slams the lid down. As he feels his face, he spots the second waiter look at him and dash out the kitchen.

Peter runs to the kitchen doors, is about to go out and stops when he notices they are labeled "IN" and "OUT". He ponders for a second, "In must mean '_Into the Dining Area_'…" and rams into the "IN" door. It abruptly stops dead in it's tracks.

"Geez, what the hell was that?" he tries the "OUT" door. It works. He runs out.

The third waiter, whose ass is on fire, slides down against the wall, to the floor. Unconscious. The fire from his ass catches the wall and starts spreading through the building.

Peter and the second waiter run by. The waiter that first served them exits the restroom. "What did I miss?"

-----

Peter starts loosing the waiter. He stops and shouts, "Hey!"

The waiter turns around; hearing Peter's voice from afar.

"You forgot your tip!" Peter yells and then reaches into the back of his pants, scoops out smeared brownies, and flings it at the waiter's face.

"Hummm, tastes like fudge," the waiter comments. Again and again fudge slams into his face – building like a vertical mountain. With each slam, the **Walter Murphy** led orchestra does a heavy, upward hit, until one last large chunk his him. He collapses, almost dead.

A dining patron looks over, "Now _THAT_ is dining music."

-----

Fire roars throughout the building. Peter races to his family and they run out quickly.

"The roof! The roof! The roof his on fire!" shouts the manager.

The first waiter says aloud, "I forgot to charge them for those brownies. _SON OF A BITCH!_"

Peter and family race from the Planet Hollywood of the Apes, as it lights up the night sky and fire trucks sounds in the near distance.

"Wait – what the hell were we talking about?" asks Peter.

"I don't remember," replies Chris.

"Well, anyway, don't do drugs, lick toads, smoke crack, or go to Mr. Roger's neighborhood."

"Okay. Well, I guess I'm going to go back upstairs. Thanks dad," he runs back up.

He closes his bedroom door and realizes, "Owww…"

He hears the closet door open. The monkey, previously known as evil, comes out. It puts it's arms out in joy, smiles and runs over and hugs Chris' left leg.

"_Ah!_"

He looks down and sees the monkey smiling at him.

"Hey … ah … evil monkey. So, ah … how are you doing today?"

In a deep, manly voice it replies, "Merrily."

"You can talk!"

"Why not? The dog can. And I am substantial, by the way."

"So, what are you doing?"

The monkey looks up at him, still holding his left leg, "Enjoying the beauty and pleasure of this meager existence."

"Cool."

"Indeed."

"I need to, like, move my legs now."

"No problem," lets go.

Chris goes over and gets his pens and sketchbook.

"I just came to get some things."

"Where will you be going?"

"Ah, to a bridge. It's covered – just like the one in Sleepy Hollow. I go there and think about things."

"May I come?"

"I guess so…"

"Toasty," the monkey runs into the closet and then comes back out with a water bottle and a pair of sandals. He then runs down stairs, with Chris in tow, and out the front door.

"Hey Brian," Peter says without blinking, or checking to see whom it was.

"Chris heads for the front door, when suddenly Lois calls to him, "Chris, honey, where are you going?"

"To the bridge."

"Okay. Be back before six. And don't fall in again."

"Okay mom!" he closes the door.

Lois sets down the second load of dirty laundry in a basket, on the floor. She gives Peter a kiss on his left cheek.

He swats at his face, wipes his left hand on it and then checks to see what is was, "What the hell was that? Oh. Hey honey."

"I talked to Big Thinker, and he told me what you did."

"It's not my fault, Pandora wouldn't tell me what was in the box!"

"I'm so proud of you Peter – he said you didn't even manage to offend him."

"I showed him some of the old Griffin charm and naturally he came around."

"Well, what ever you did seems to have worked. Who knows? Maybe you two will even get to be best friends. Peter, where did you get those necklaces?"

"Big Tinkler gave them to me."

"Oh, how nice. Well, you enjoy watching TV; I'm gonna go upstairs and see how Meg is doing," she walks off.

Stewie opens his toy chest, sandwiched between two bookshelves. He pulls out a toy Star Wars Lightsaber. He thrusts it outwards; extending it's neon-red telescopic pole.

"Hummm, yes, the plastic phallic symbol of the 70s. 'Use the force' … honestly Lucas, is this sci-fi of Hustler's Close Encounters of the Sensual Kind…" he puts the toy down and walks to the extended end. He pulls a small rectangular box from his red overalls. The box is jet black and has his initials in cursive gold on it. He opens it to reveal a row of shinny new hooks and sharp things. He picks out a small wall-screw hook, closes the box and pockets it. He lifts up the Lightsaber and screws in the hook into it's top.

He angles it up toward the window's first lock. He tugs at it hard. It pulls open.

"Ah, it's like taking locks from a … a thing … and … oh, screw it. I don't have to be witty by myself."

He tugs at the second one; it doesn't budge. He pulls harder. Nothing.

Looks at Rupert, "You know, you could be helping me damnit."

He goes back to his struggle. It holds tight.

"Maybe it I…" he puts his mouth on the end and starts sucking the air from the handle of the Lightsaber – in an attempt to de-extend it. He gets red faced and angry.

Brian passes by, then stops back.

"Keep practicing and maybe one day Jabba will have a position for you."

"Ha … ha," he tries to laugh sarcastically.

"Um, the force is strong with this one."

"Damn you. If I weren't lightheaded and gasping for air, I'd give you a good-"

"Oh, you're so cute when you're evil."

Stewie growls. Brian just walks off.

Stewie tries one more time and it loosens to an open.

"Rupert, my spindle of evil – bring it to me at once!" he looks at his unmoving teddy bear. "Fine then; some minion of darkness you are," he picks up a spool of electrical wire and walks backward to the window; the other end connected to his Frankensteined weather alternator.

He places the spindle on top the toy chest and then proceeds to climb atop it. He then pushes the window open and steps out onto the roof. He reaches back in and brings out the spindle. He reaches the top and sets the spindle on the obtuse edge where both slopes of the roof meet.

He opens a secret compartment, under a shingle, and pulls out a few hand tools – which he pockets.

Then he walks over to the satellite dish, with spindle in hand. He sets it down again.

He fishes for a pair of wire cutters and snips the cable feed. The cable goes out inside the house.

-----

"NOOOOO!" we hear Quagmire yell from next door.

Cut to Peter: "What the … now how will I find out what happened to Fred and Barney?"

-----

Stewie does some wiring and hooks the satellite cable to a two-way splitter. He connects the last wire and leads it back to the window. He puts the spindle back in and follows.

Lois knocks on Meg's bedroom door.

"Go away Chris!"

"Meg, honey, it's your mother," she opens the door.

"Oh, hey mom."

"I got great news sweetheart – I talked to your father and he said that Big Thinker and him made up. So, you can stop hating you father … about this incident."

"Yeah, _this_ time, but what about May Sweeps?"

"Well, honey, I guess you'll just have to reserve the right to hate him at a later date."

"Okay."

"But that's actually not the reason I came up to talk to you…"

"Yeah … about the electrified doorknob handle, you see – Chris has been-"

"Nah, it's not that sweetie; though that was rather disturbing. It's about Big Thinker. I know he walks around shirtless a lot and that he's charming and in-touch with his feelings, but … I saw you checking him out the other day, from you bedroom window."

"You did?"

"Yes. So, I guess we need to have a talk about the birds and the bees then…"

"Ew! No, no, no, no, no – NO! We do NOT need to talk about it. The birds do it, the bees do it, stick your who-who-dilly in her cha-cha. I got it."

"Good," Lois pats Meg on a leg and gets up to leave. Meg lies back in bed.

"Oh, and Meg…"

"Yeah?"

"The light from his cooking fire reflected on your binocular lenses, onto him. Honey, try looking at something besides his crotch for exactly 32 minutes."

Megan smiles uneasily, "Heh, heh … wait – how did you know it was exactly 32 minutes?"

"Take care sweetie," Lois leaves the room abruptly.

Chris and the monkey sit on a big windowpane – one of four – on one of the sides of the roof-covered bridge.

Chris sketches in his art pad.

"What are you doodling?" asks the monkey.

"Those guys fishing down there at the creek. You know, they should really call those fish sticks."

"Say, that's pretty good; you mind if I take a gander?"

"Sure," he hands the monkey his sketchpad. The monkey slowly flips pages.

Chris ads commentary, "That's my dad when we went camping once. That's my mom after the doctors drugged her up one Christmas. That's the evil monk-" he stops.

The monkey quickly turns the page.

"And this individual?"

"That's Sam – a girl I fell in love with once. And that's some creepy old man I used to deliver newspapers to."

"They're very nice. What are you doing?"

"Spitting into the creek."

"Aren't there people fishing down there?"

"Yeah, but I try to avoid them. Besides – it looks so cool when the spit hits the water. It's like a miniature atomic bomb and the fish are all people and they run and scream when it goes off, but no one can hear them scream cause only bubbles come out and they look like farts. Screaming farts. It's easy, just look before you spit."

The monkey spits, "Ah, it's a wonderful like," puts his arms up in joy.

"Ha ha, that was a itty-bitty loogie. See?" Chris hocks up a big one and lets it rip.

"Retry," monkey spits quickly. It lands on top of someone's head.

"Hey!" the person yells out.

"Oh my goodness – you spit on J-Lo! That's a switch."

"I am most apologetic, ma'am," says the monkey.

"_You bitch!_ When I get done beating up this fan, I'm gonna come up there and spit on _YOU BOTH!_"

"HUH!" they both exclaim.

"And then kill you!" J-Lo yells in anger.

The monkey turns to Chris and says quickly, "I think we should make haste."

"Okay," they both get up and take off to Chris' bicycle. The monkey hops into the bike's basket.

"Here, hide under this blanket so my mom doesn't see you – she hates it when I bring animals home."

**CUT TO**: Chris walking in the house – a man follows in.

"Hey mom, I'm home."

"Chris, honey, who's that strange man?"

"This is Professor Ward Churchill."

"Hello Miss Griffin. Nice house; want to use it as a terrorist training camp?"

The monkey puts on a blue blanket and Chris peddles the bike off.

"Hey! Come back here! I haven't _spit on you yet!_"

A quick secondary theme plays as Peter walks out into the backyard. Big Thinker is sitting at a small fire, cross-legged and chanting with his eyes closed.

"Whoa! Kemo sabe – fire!"

"Wait-"

Peter bends over, grabs the water hose and sprays the fire out.

"What the heck were you doing?" asks Peter.

"I was praying to the Great Spirit."

"Geez, I hope it wasn't the sun god, cause it looks like he tried to kill you."

"The Mezzojaha use a form of meditation to reach a relaxed state of consciousness, in order to communicate with out Great Spirit."

"Great Spirit? You are aware there's no such thing? Like gremlins, elves, Unbervamps, and contact e-mail for the I.R.S.."

"The Great Spirit is invisible to the common eye, but he formed the land, breathed in air and cried an ocean."

"No, god did that – and in seven days; talk about your work week. It's okay, you blasphemous little heevan," pats Big Thinker on his head.

"You have again offended my people."

"Oops – I did it again. Look, couldn't we just forget about it this once?"

"I could tell your wife…"

"Lois? She'll kill me if she fins out I insulted you again. Please don't tell her, I'll do give you anything you want."

"Anything?"

"Yeah, you name it. Except head."

"Give me the Dining Room."

Big Thinker gets up and walks into the house. Peter follows.

"The Dining Room?"

Big Thinker stops at the Dining Room entrance.

"It is right next to the basement entrance," Big Thinker persuades.

"Gee, I don't know…"

"Here is another beaded necklace."

"All right! Now I got a collection going. I guess you can take the Dining Room; we've barely used it in the last five years. Besides, we got a table in the kitchen anyway."

"Big thinker walks over to the door less Dining Room entrance, pulls out a hammer and nails a sign to the left side of the arched entrance. He walks away.

Peter reads it, "Now entering Mezojaha territory…

Damnit – my Batman coffee cup is in there," he reads the sign again – he catches small print: NO TRESPASSING.

"Ohhhhh….."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Peter stands outside with Brain. "What's up Peter? I assume something serious; you didn't even bring your Nurf Arrow gun." "I did it again, Brian! I offended Big Thinker again!" "So?" "What do I do?" "Forgive me if I don't do a double-take Peter; I expect you'll offend him plenty of time before he leaves." "Well, can't you give me more advice? Like last time. Tell me what I need to know!" "Peter – knowing is only half the battle; the other is yourself." "Hey! I can take me any day. I'll show myself who's the boss around here." "Yikes. I'd like to help, but I'm in the middle of Denial. I need a drink, and its the only thing that will make me feel better. If I don't get one soon, I'll start hallucinating."

Chris peddles downhill; going faster and faster as the bike gains speed. "The bridge!" the monkey yells and points out. Chris sees the lake bridge split open to allow a taller boat passage, "Agh!!!" he squeezes the handle brakes. Nothing. "Someone cut the brake lines!" The bike races at the bridge and then starts climbing up it – still moving quickly. The bike shoots up and out into the air, across the bridge opening.

Brian looks over at the big, early-rising moon. The bike flies passed it. "Peter, did you see that?" "See what?" turns and looks, "Geez Brian, it's just the moon." "Didn't you notice anything unusual?" "Nope. Just creators, cheese and a large partially etched word 'chair'. Why?" "Nothing," shakes his head, "never mind. I'm gonna go back inside," turns around to leave. "Hey, what about Big Thinker?" "Well, how did you insult him this time?" "I may have … accidentally said his religion was phony and trying to kill him." "Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter – have you ever thought about using an intermediate?" "Hey! Stupid people are people too; just because they're morons doesn't mean we can use them." "Okay … I'm going to ignore that one and leave you with this: stop insulting his religion!" goes into the house. Peter waits a few seconds and then mouth-mocks Brian, "Stop insulting their religion."

Stewie opens and turns on a toy laptop computer. It starts, "He he – how do you spell apple?" in Barney the Dinosaur's voice. "How do you spell death wish!" and looks at the keys, "Hmmm, let's see …" he trials off as he presses some buttons. He checks the ports in the back and sees a USB plug-in; he connects a chord leading from the downstairs computer, to it, "Okay … I need to reroute the primary feed through the secondary memory bank's subprocessor and circumnavigate the computer's command codes … ah ha! Success! Rupert, I am in!" he types. A paper clip with a face pops up, "What would you like to do today?" Stewie types: Reposition the satellite. "Please enter your coordinates." Stewie leans over to check a map and types. "It will take approximately 48 hours for the satellite to reposition. Thanks you for using Comcast's Satellite Service Provider # 69. Good-bye." "Rupert, the time is nearly at hand! All I have to do is finish my calculations and enter than 48 hours from now when the satellite is repositioned. Hurricane Stewie is about to be unleashed upon the woman! A category five death storm! Um, yes – that sounded particularly more malevolent in my head … Rupert! Ignore those last remarks!"

Lois walks toward the door in the kitchen that leads to the Dining Room. She has a stack of seven plates in her hands, against her chest. Peter, just having walked into the Living Room entrance door to the kitchen, runs to the door Lois is heading toward and blocks it. "Hey honey, could you step out of the way? I got to take th4ese diner plates to the Dining room." "Nooo, you don't wanna go in there," he says quickly. Lois laughs, "Why not?" "Cause, ah, I, ah," thinks: working on the table, broke the table, sold the table… "farted," he says as if it were something clever. "Oh, honey – that's no problem; you fart in bed all the time…" trials off in a slightly unhappy tone. She gently pushes him to the side and goes out the door. Peter fumbles, and then aces out and blocks the doorless entrance to the Dining room. He holds his arms out. "Peter, no games; these are a bit heavy." "We can't eat in here." "Why not?" she asks suspiciously. "Ah, ah … because this is the room Mr. Weed died in." "Oh! I had completely forgotten! I understand you want to honor the memory of Mr. Weed; sure, I'll go set these up in the kitchen." "Yeah, yeah, Mr. Tweed. That's what I wanted to do – honor him," and he pushes Lois into the kitchen.

The front door opens and the monkey runs in and up the stairs to Chris' room. Lois calls out from the kitchen, "Chris, is that you?" "Yeah, mom!" "All right. Chris, when you have a moment, can you come talk to me?" "Okay," he runs up the stairs and into his room. He shuts the door and sets his pad and pens on his bed. The closet door is slightly ajar. Chris sits on the floor and unties his shoes, to change into casual house shoes. The closet door closes. He looks over – no monkey. "Are you in here, monkey?" "Above you." "Ah!" he says in shock after turning his head around and seeing the monkey's right next to him. The monkey backs up in the bed a little bit. "Sorry," says Chris, "force on habit." "Those were very good sketches." "Thanks. I hope to one day make my own comic book or draw my own TV show." "You could draw for disney." "Nah, disney is evil." "Chris, I want you to draw me; like in one of those pictures." "I guess I could do that, just-" "Wearing this," the monkey points to his smile, "and only this. I want you to draw me in the hairy buff." "But, you're a monkey; you're already naked." "Shhh…" says the monkey. Chris sits in momentary, then says, "Okay," and with that he gets up and kicks a bean bag over in front of his bed. He then retrieves the pad & pens from the bed. The monkey takes Chris' pillow, places it on the opposite end, and rests it's head on it; body lying sideways – front facing Chris. Chris starts sketching the monkey with a broken bit of coal. "Why, mister artist – I do believe you're blushing." "Nah, I'm still exhausted from peddling so fast for so long." "Would it help you if I sang a song?" "Not really-" "When I think about you I touch myself…" "No, it's definitely not helping." "I'll desist." Chris continues to sketch out the monkey. "You know, this is the most erotic experience of my life," says the monkey. Chris stops – wide eyed, "Oh my god – what's that?!" "My manhood." "AH!!!" throws the implements down and evacuates the room. The monkey looks down at his crotch and pulls at it, "no wait – that's my hairy tale," he fiddles around, "there's my manhood. Oh ….. OH," he shifts his eyes back and forth, runs to the door and shuts it.

Chris runs to the kitchen, after finding the upstairs bathroom occupied, and turns the sink on; he splashes water into his eyes and yells, "My eyes! My eyes!" Lois runs over to Chris, "Chris! What did you get in them?!" "Sin!" "Oh," looks at Peter; he hangs up the phone. "Honey, I keep telling g you: the devil would never come and do that in your eyes. And it's not pronounced mastication." Brian, who walked in moments earlier says, "Not this again – did someone catch him 'masticating' again?" "No, I saw the evil monkey's wiener! Except he's not evil anymore, so I guess I saw a good wiener." Brian points to Lois and says before leaving, "You know, I don't have to be sober for this." Peter sits back down at the kitchen table. Reading the newspaper he periodically lifts his eyes over the edge to make sure Lois isn't going to the Dining Room. The newspaper headline reads: 12 Dead In Randy Newman Attack. "Well, while you're down here honey, I wanted to ask you if you'd like to go camping with Big Thinker in the back yard. I saw the tent in the basement and figured if you'd spent time together, you guys might get to be friends. Who knows – maybe next summer you can visit his reservation. So, you wanna go-" Chris blurts out, "YES!" "Good. I think Big Thinker is in the backyard; maybe he can help you pitch the tent." "Hang on a second Lois – I don't want any of my boys playing any of those queer games." CUT TO: Richard Simmons. Voiceover: "New from Parker Partners, it's: Gaynopoly!" A guy rolls the dice and moves. "Ut-oh – do not pass go," and Simmons walks over, kneels in and puts his arms around the guy, "looks like I can have it all in the game of life!" The guy's eyes widen in panic.

BACK TO THEM: "Peter, I meant that they can set up the tent that's down in the basement." "Oh. Chris, son, it's perfectly natural for two men to share a tent together. Just don't share the same sleeping bag." Chris silently walks off. "Well, it's close to diner time, so I'm gonna go ahead and bring Stewie down and then set up," she touches one of his hands and walks away. Peter waits a minutes. "Oh … oh … OH!" takes off to the bathroom.

Chris goes outside. Big Thinker is dispersing seeds from his right hand, and covering them with dirt with his feet. "Hey B.T., what are you doing?" "Planting corn." "For what?" "The big harvest. There is going to be a lot to be thankful for this year." "Cool. I had some corn once; it came out like Chicklets. I named them all Cornholio!" "Do you wish to seed the Earth with me Chris Griffin?" "Maybe later. I came out here 'cause my mom said we should go camping together." "Yes, she suggested it to me as well." "Well, I guess I'll go get the tent from the basement." "No, you cannot go down there." "I'm pretty sure I can…" confused. Thinks for a moment and replies, "I mean … let me go and get the tent for you." "Okay." "Here," takes one of Chris' hands and pours the remaining seeds into it, "please finish for me Chris Griffin," and walks off, back into the house. Chris starts tossing the seeds around and sings, "It's raining zein…"

Lois knocks on Stewie's bedroom door. "Hey Stewie, time for diner." He eyes her evilly. "What are you doing down there?" she kneels in. Hey types quickly to remove what he was doing, "I'm learning to spell with Barney, yes. Oh – how I love the big, fuzzy, stupid purple icon. Hummm, I suddenly got chills." "Oh, spell something for me," she asks. He types one letter at a time slowly: D – I – E and looks at her evilly again, then types some more: S – E – L. "All right sweaty – you'll play more after diner," she reaches down and picks him up, "Up we go." "Oh god, shouldn't you at least be wearing proper sanitary gloves? I say – where's OSHA when you need them?"

Lois sits Stewie in his diner chair. "Big Thinker, go ahead and make yourself comfortable, diner will be done in a minute," she goes into the kitchen. B.T. turns to see Meg suddenly sitting next to him. He shudders briefly. "So … do you have a squaw waiting at your reservation?" Blurts out, "Yes." "You know … what happens in Quahog, stays in Quahog," she rubs his left leg with her right hand. Brian leans over to Stewie, "10 to 1 she'll play footsie with him." "You're on," Stewie slaps down a dollar. Peter sits at the table, "Geez, when are we gonna get some freakin' service around here?" Lois walks in and sets two pots on the table. "About time, I was ready to complain to the manager." Everyone serves themselves as Lois brings in a plate full of bread rolls. She sits. "So, B.T., how do you like out city so far?" "It has been a fascinating comparison to where I come from. Also, I saw you mayor cry when someone dropped trash on the ground."

CUT TO: Mayor West crying after someone drops garbage on the street. Wipes the tear away, "Reminds me of when I first littered."

BACK TO THEM. Lois speaks, "So, have you and Chris set up the tent yet?" "Tent? What tent? Can I come with you? I love tents!" says Meg. Stewie and Brian snicker. "No honey, just the guys," replies Lois. Brian leans over to Stewie, "Hey, you hear th-" "Shut up," with his arms folded. "It's all done. B.T. says we're gonna have a campfire and stuff!" "Speaking of fire, did you know primitive cavemen invented fire? It's true, I saw it on T.V.," says Peter. Everyone doesn't say anything and moves on. "I am going to take Chris on a Spiritual Journey." "Well, we're already Catholic and-" Peter interrupts Lois:"And that's more than enough. We don't need any other crazy religion telling us we're sinful hell spawn; the Catholic church does that just fine." Big Thinker comments, "A religion it's not, but rather a journey to find oneself." "But I'm right here," says Chris. "I meant inside yourself." "Like Innerspace?" B.T. taps the table impatiently, "You shall see later." "No fair! How come I don't get a spiritual journey?" whines Megan. Brian says quietly, "'Cause Satan's busy." Meg turns her head to him, "What?" curiously. "Nothing." Stewie snickers. "Maybe next time, honey," says Lois; starting to get impatient herself. "Listen – sans Meg speaking again, I'm sure we will have a perfectly good diner and that not a things will go wrong; nothing at all."

CUT TO FIVE MINUTES LATER: Everyone is exiting the kitchen, pissed off. "You're an ass," says Lois as she walks out of the kitchen. "You make me likable," says Meg, who follows. Chris sits for a second before saying, "I'm gonna go wait outside for B.T.," and heads out as well. Brian turns and looks at Peter, "You know, when most people stare this long, its usually in complex thought or in appreciation of the arts – like Auguste Rodin's The Thinker, but for you it's the raw stupidity. Why, Peter? Why? "What? All I said is that his neck doesn't look red, so it must be the one on his penis – assuming they don't put poles threw them." "As a non Indian myself, even I found that in poor taste for diner conversation … and I've been known to eat off the floor." "What do I do now?" "Call someone who gives a crap," and Brian up and leaves. Peter shouts out, "But everyone craps! How do I narrow it down?!" "Talk to him," Stewie says. "What?" looks at Stewie. "Let him know you're mentally deficient and humbly apologize." "And maybe he'll forgive me? And Lois?" "Fuck Lois. Just toss the little scalp monger out if he doesn't." "I guess I'll have to give him something else." "Or package him to Abu Dhabi – whatever." "Well, here goes nothing," and Peter leaves the kitchen. A minute passes and Stewie speaks, "So, ah, just, eh … gonna leave me here – is that what it is?"

Peter enters the Living Room; only Big Thinker is there. "For your information, my neck is read because my people toil outside hard for hours hunting, building, and planting our food, while you go to Wal-Mart for all that." "Sometimes even Winn-Dixie." "Your comments were an insult to my people's daily struggle to survive." "Just tell me what part of the house you want – any part, even our bedroom. At first her back will ache a little, but it'll eventually become accustomed to the floor. Some how I'll live with the couch, and-" "Chris' bedroom." "Couldn't you two just share it?" "He can have the tent. That way at least one of you will know what it's like to live in harmony with mother nature. I'll even teach him a thing or two during tonight's moon." "Well, I did say anything, so I guess it's a deal." "Here," hands Peter another beaded necklace and walks away to claim the bedroom. "You know, I should feel terrible for the way I gave my son's bedroom and belongings, but these beads are so shiny!" he plays with them, "Hehehehehehehehehehehe…" 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Chris and Big Thinker sit next to a small fire that crackles.

"Am I there yet?" asks Chris.

"Patience."

"Is a Spiritual Journey anything like finding one's self sexually? 'Cause I've already done that. In fact, I did it twice last night."

Big Thinker shudders, then says, "The journey of a thousand miles beings with a single step."

"Why don't they use a car? Is it cheating if you take the journey with OnStar? What's that?" points to what Big Thinker is holding.

Big Thinker shoves it in Chris' mouth, "It has many uses," says lowly, "like shutting you the fuck up…" then ads in a normal volume, "smoke it."

"Whuh izsh it?" Chris tries to speak.

"A special herb that opens your mind for the journey. During the journey you will see and hear strange sounds and objects, but they will not be real. You may even think you see your parents, but don't let anything stop you until you've complete it."

Chris' eyes widen and he shouts, "I'm freaking out!"

"We haven't even started yet."

…

Peter passes Megan's door, then goes in.

"Hey honey, what are you still doing up?"

"Ah!" puts the hand holding the binoculars behind her back after turning to face him, "nothing. But I am having a little trouble sleeping; can you read me a story?"

"Sure sweetie," picks up a book and sits on her bed. He looks at how thick it is and makes a perturbed sound, "Eh … once upon a time there was a dad who gave a damn. Good night," lies the book down and leaves, smiling.

…

…

The next morning. Chris opens his bedroom door. The curtains are drawn shut and the room is dark, with an ominous shade of gold from the dark yellow curtains. Items are strewn about. He bends over and fins pages ripped out of his sketch book and his pens snapped in half.

"What the…" holds a broken pencil.

"Where were you last night?"

Chris looks over and sees the closet door ajar; the monkey sitting with it's arms folded.

"I'm on a spiritual journey. I just came up here to get my pad and pens, but-"

"Who is he?" demands the monkey.

"What do you mean?"

"The black-haired spawn."

"Oh, that's Big Thinker. He's a cultural exchange student."

"I saw you two sitting next to each other last night. Then he retreated to the tent with you."

"Oh, he helped me start the journey. So far I haven't seen anything but my dad had one once and saw the Fonz, so I'm watching the clouds and-"

"Do you love him?"

"Huh?"

"Do not play coy with me, Chris Griffin. I asked if you love him!"

"Well, as a friend."

"Liar! You're a liar, you two-timing turd box!"

"Turd box?" confused.

The monkey shows his evil, sharp teeth, then points in a threatening manner. He slams the closet door.

"Ah, shit," Chris looks down.

…

…

Brian comes down from upstairs. Peter is on the couch watching "Magnum, pi".

"Hey Brian. How'd you sleep last night?"

"Terrible. I kept shaking and waking up. I need a drink."

"You can do it. Drinking is no good for you anyway. It kills bain sills. Heh – I remember this one time me and my buddies got _totally_ wasted and decided to go grave robbing and I put this circle of flowers on my head and took this big piss on an Indian burial mond.

Good times," pats his left hand on the couch arm rest.

"Ah, Peter…" says Brian.

"What?" looks over and sees Big Thinker standing at the kitchen entrance, "Oh, come on!"

…

Peter and Big Thinker stand in front of the house.

"You have offended me IMMENSELY! Such aggrevious, callous comments lead me to believe you are a man of poor character and incapable of amending what you have done."

"How about I give you the porch. Will that do it?"

"That is grossly insufficient for hat you have done."

"How about if I throw in one of the bathrooms? You can take the upstairs one; it's next to Chris' room. But you got to jiggle the handle a little bit."

"The house."

"Come again?"

"Sign the deed over to me. That is proper compensation."

"Gee, I don't know…"

"Unless you want me to tell your wife you piss on our graves."

"Let's definitely not do that. She's still pissed about that time I tried to flush Meg's dead cat down the toilet. I still don't know why the Roto-Rooter guy had to take pictures of that. Here," pulls the deed out of a pocket from the back of his pants.

He signs his name. Big thinker signs as well.

"Here you go," gives Peter a bead necklace, "you have one week to be out of my property."

"That seems fair. By the way, these beads are so pretty; where do you get them?"

"They're a dozen for a dollar at the Indian store."

"Oh."

"Excuse me, but I must now plan redecoration," and re-enters the house.

…

Megan suddenly appears and walks with Big Thinker as he makes his way through the house, "So … I've never seen an Indian totem pole before…"

Big Thinker stops, "Okay, firstly: you are ugly as sin. Secondly: that was the poorest attempt at sexual innuendo I have ever heard in my life. You won't be my squaw, you won't be my squat!"

"So, does this mean it's over between us?"

"Let me put this to you as clearly and succinctly as I can: fuck off!" and goes out the back door.

"Hey!" Lois exits from the kitchen, "You can't talk to my daughter like that!" and follows him outside.

"Yes, yes he can! Mom, don't screw this up for me – I think he's playing hard to get," goes out too.

"What's all the ruckus about?"

"I just got out of the bathroom, but I think Big Thinker insulted Meg," says Brian as they head toward the back door.

"Really? Was it a good one?"

"Peter!" in a corrective tone.

"I mean … damn him! But if it's funny, I'm gonna need to hear it. To decide his fate, you know."

They both exit the house.

…

Stewie hears yells from the backyard and runs over toi his toy chest in front of the window; he climbs it and looks out. He sees the top of Lois' head and jumps off running back to the laptop, "Rupert! The time is now!" he types in the coordinates.

The little paper clip talks, "The satellite will be repositioned in approximately 10 minutes."

"Finally, after years of oppression, that thing I have to call 'mommy' will parish. I can't decide – should I just set her remains on fire or should I have it stuffed and mounted as a testament to my victory?"

…

"This is totally unacceptable! I'm going to call the school first thing Monday morning and tell them to get you someplace else to live," says Lois.

Big Thinker laughs, "Good luck with that."

"Ahhh … Lois…" Peter tries to get her attention.

"And you can take those signs off of the bathroom and Dining Room entrances, and what ever the hell else you got around here."

"Lois…"

"What, Peter? Now's not the time to pull your finger, okay?"

"I kind of sold the house to him."

"You what?!"

"Like you did that one time when you were gambling. I figure we'll just call it even."

Lois replies, "I ….. damnit."

"All right! I won one! Did you hear that, Brian? I won one!"

"Even retarded people get lucky."

"Your husband is right and I was kind enough to give one week's notice, but now I must insist you all leave by nightfall. Especially Meg."

"I changed my mind. Can I have the house back?" asks Peter, with absolute dumbfounded sincerity.

"HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!" Big Thinker laughs maniacally.

"What about if you should die? Can we have it back then?"

"Fine, what ever," whips out the deed and writes out, "in the events I, Big Thinker, should die a _**natural**_ death-"

"Damnit," Peter looks down with a fist.

Big Thinker continues, "Ownership of the house reverts to the original deed signer."

The wind picks up and a humming sound fills the air.

"Soon all my brethren who are here in exchange will acquire deeds to houses and slowly we will take back the land homestead by homestead!"

TAWOOOMMM! Thunder echoes in the distance.

Stewie's computer beeps; a compute generated picture of the satellite hitting the center of the crosshairs coordinates, flashes red.

"Watch! Watch! Oh, this might be a Kodak moment," Stewie scurries off to get a camera.

"What as I dance in triumph," Big thinker lifts his feet up and down and shakes his arms about, the tassels shifting in the increasing wind; it starts raining, "Look at me dance. This is the dance of retro reparations!" Big Thinker yells.

"Funny, it looks like a retarded kid trying to do the hockey pokey," comments Peter.

Lightening strikes; the power goes out.

…

…

Cut to Joe's bedroom. A sock is hanging out of his fly.

"Ah, damnit! NOT NOW!" he says with rage and slams his fists on the hand mounts of the wheelchair.

…

Chris exits the tent, "What's going on?"

"Have you found your spirit guide yet?" asks Big Thinker.

"No."

Big Thinker replies, "You're hallucinating. Get back in your tent."

"Okay Mr. Hallucination."

"I'm calling the police," says Lois.

"See, Mr. Griffin? It looks as though my non-existent god is smiling down upon me; brining me shelter and watering my corn. Let's see what else he has to give!"

Big Thinker. Dances widely, up and down and throws his hands in the air, looking at the sky.

TSUM! Lightening strikes him. Smokes rises off his body. TSUM! Again it hits him and he falls over dead.

"Gee, I don't think you're god likes you very much. Huh – I was right – he _was_ trying to kill you. I'll take that," and pulls the deed from Big Thinker's back pocket.

…

"Any second now…" says Stewie with anticipation.

IGT! The computer beeps.

"Connection list. Satellite access codes changed," says the paper clip.

"BLAST! She has more lives then a cat! Oh well, next time. And there will be a next time."

…

"Oh my god, what do we do?" asks Lois, looking at Big Thinker.

"I tell you what we do, we call freakin' Ripley's! Lightening struck twice in the same spot!" says Peter.

"What's wrong with you people?! He needs CPR!" and Megan repeatedly gives him CPR; the skin on his lips melting onto her own. She bangs his chest furiously and starts CPR again.

Lois bends down and pulls Megan away – melted lip skin hanging off her mouth like hot cheese, "Meg, stop giving CPR to the dead body."

"Excuse me, I'm gonna have a drink," and Brian walks into the house.

Chris says from inside the tent, "Frank Stallone?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Final Chapter**

It's very late at night. The moon shines brightly. We see the tops halves of Peter and Brian.

"It's a shame about Big Thinker, even though he was an evil plotting sociopath," says Brian.

"Well, these things happen. Though rarely in such an awesome way! Hey Brian, did – did ya see when the lightening hit him?"

"Ahhh, yes I did."

"That was sweet," Peter zips up his pants, "well, I'm done."

"Me too," replies Brian.

They walk away from a grave. The tombstone reads: Big Thinker

**-THE END-**


End file.
